Page 105 of Keeping Sarah

“If I think of something I want, I will let you know.” I grinned mischievously at her. “Actually, I just figured something out that I want.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Breakfast.”

She laughed, and we took showers and started to dress for the day ahead. Deacon pulled his uniform up over his hips, which allowed me to pay attention to his words. “We need to tell my father everything that has happened. In person. Hearing all of this on a message will only seem like we are in some kind of trouble.”

I nodded my agreement. “After that, I will need to scout on Orhon and find out what the word is there. Rex’s death will be big news once it gets out, and unless Xylic has been able to silence all communication from Halla, they will likely know who was involved. I’ll need to make sure there are no surprises coming here.”

“If that is the case, then they will likely be after my known associates,” Deacon said with a frown. “You cannot scout for this.”

I hissed my disappointment. “You’re right.”

“We’ll need to send someone we trust, though, right?” Sarah asked as she finished braiding her hair. “I trust Xylic to a degree, but I want our own people to find out what’s being said on Orhon.”

“I concur,” Deacon said, his lips pursed. “There is no room for error on this, and with Illiapol coming—"

“Yeah, that caught my ear yesterday when Xylic mentioned it, but we had bigger fish to fry in the throne room at the time. What is Illiapol?” she asked.

I placed my hands on my hips and explained, “It is a barbaric tradition, as far as I’m concerned, but I’m sure Deacon has other opinions on the matter—"

He arched a brow, his eyes flashing with indignation. “Because I’m classed?”

I chose my words carefully. “Classed people seem to think Illiapol is a day of celebration for all of Orhon. The rest of us know what it is.”

“And that is?” Sarah asked impatiently.

“Apologies, Consort, I was distracted by Jac’s insult.” Deacon gave me a sharp look and I shrugged it off before he continued. “Illiapol is an annual holiday festival which celebrates the sacrifice of Illiamor, the first classed woman.”

“Bullshit,” I grumbled.

“Sacrifice?” Sarah asked in alarm. “What sacrifice?”

“There was a time when women could not be considered classed or unclassed,” Deacon said. “They were either united or ununited. They did not qualify for classification at all.” He shook his head. “It was a hateful tradition that did not change until awinter that altered all of Ladrian society. It occurred hundreds of years ago and lasted for half a decade—"

“The winters here arethatlong?” Sarah asked, her eyes wide at the thought.

“Not usually,” I interjected. “Orhon’s axial tilt was off for unknown reasons, but our scientists worked out the problem and changed it back.”

“Wow,” Sarah mumbled. “That’s incredible.”

I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “No, what’s incredible is that anyone believes the myth of Illiamor.”

Deacon shot me a look before returning to his story. “I was getting to that. So, during that winter, food stores depleted as you might imagine, and the rulers were starving just like the people in the fields. Back then, we were ruled by a king, and his daughter, Illiamor, was his favorite. She decided to trek into the wilderness to find food for her family. But when she came back empty handed, she decided that they should eat her so that they could live, so—"

“What?” Sarah gasped in horror.

“You heard him right,” I said with an agitated huff.

Deacon ignored my side remark. “So, Illiamor made arrangements with the chef on how she was to be eaten and to preserve her meat for the rest of the winter, use her bones and skin for soup, and so on. They worked together on a menu which would sustain her family the longest, before she had the butcher kill her. Of course, the kitchen staff wept through the processing of her body, which is why so much of the food served at Illiapol is salty—"

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to back up a sec,” Sarah interrupted him again, this time with her hand on her stomach as though she felt sick. “This girl planned out how her family should use hermeat?”

Deacon nodded. “By feeding them, she saved their lives, and so by extending her carcasses usage, she saved her family’s lives twice in effect, because none of the rest of them had to volunteer as food. The planning was quite honorable of her. Due to her noble sacrifices, her father declared that women were just as noble as men, and therefore, they could be classed, as well. It is seen as achievement and triumph for women.”

“Forclassedwomen,” I added, my tone harsh and I didn’t care. “Come on, Deacon. Let’s be honest about it.”

“Well, itisa myth,” he said defensively.

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